Page 13 of It All Started with a Bite

Hugh nodded.

Victoria digested this information with a cold look. She turned to Bernard. “Fetch Samuel.”

The butler adjusted his monocle and vanished inside with impressive speed.

“We should continue this discussion somewhere more private,” Victoria said tightly. She swept inside like a queen, Pearl peering around at us from her arms with a withering stare.

“Is the cat always this charming?” I muttered to Hugh as we followed.

“Pearl doesn’t like anyone except Mother,” Hugh said morosely. “And even that’s debatable some days.”

“She smells like entitlement and expensive cat food,” Bo huffed.

We entered a grand entrance hall with a sweeping staircase and a crystal chandelier that probably cost more than my annual salary. Multiple sets of eyes watched our progress from the gilt-framed portraits lining the walls. All of them looked judgmental.

Hugh’s face had taken on a sheen of pure dread again.

I tried to distract him by indicating the portraits. “Your ancestors?”

“Yeah.” Hugh looked relieved at my attempt to break the nail-biting tension hanging over us. “The hairy ones were painted during the full moon.”

I stared at a particularly shaggy gentleman in Victorian dress. “That explains a lot.”

“Watch your mouth, young lady.” Victoria appeared from a corridor to the right, her expression pinched. “That’s my great-grandfather you’re talking about.”

I blinked. “Russell the newspaper truck chaser?” I whispered to Hugh out of the corner of my mouth.

“The very same.”

“This way, please.” Victoria gestured in the direction of what appeared to be a formal sitting room.

The sound of heavy footsteps overhead made us all pause. Hugh went pale.

“That would be Samuel,” Victoria said with grim satisfaction.

The footsteps reached the top of the stairs. I looked up.

My breath caught.

Bo’s ears flattened. Ellie whimpered. The pair of them scooted behind me and peered anxiously at the figure on the landing.

Power poured off the man in waves. Samuel Hawthorne wore a crisp white shirt and dark slacks that did little to hide his impressive build. His dark hair curled at his neckline and was slightly disheveled, like he’d run his hands through it in frustration. But it was his face that caught and held my attention—all sharp angles and brooding intensity, his eyes blazing like amber fire behind his tortoiseshell-framed glasses.

Those eyes locked onto mine. We both froze.

Something electric shot through me. My skin tingled and my pulse spiked, sending every hair on my body on end. Judging from the way his pupils flared, he was experiencing a similar reaction.

The world tilted sideways.

“What the hell?” I mumbled, grabbing the nearest solid object for support.

Unfortunately, that turned out to be Hugh.

“Careful.” He steadied me and shot a nervous glance at his brother.

Samuel’s gaze dropped to where Hugh was touching me. He lowered his brows.

Hugh let go hastily.

---